


Dumbass (With Love)

by AnxiousOddish



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Or is it just canon to Black Friday?, autistic paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 10:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousOddish/pseuds/AnxiousOddish
Summary: Emma and Paul have different styles of communication, and Emma has a hard time being vulnerable. Also, she calls Paul a dumbass a lot. It works out.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 25
Kudos: 243





	Dumbass (With Love)

Emma wasn’t the most in touch with her feelings. Generally speaking, feelings belonged buried in her chest where no one could touch them, not even herself. Paul… Paul was not like Emma. Paul was open, he talked about how he felt, and he talked about how he felt about _ her. _ Watching him change as their relationship developed had been like seeing a flower bloom. He started spending more time with Bill, he smiled more, he seemed to find a purpose in life. Maybe it was something internal, him choosing to take what scraps of joy he could get, maybe it was as simple as Emma helping him realize that people could, and did, care about him. Emma decided it didn’t particularly matter. He was happy, and Emma enjoyed being around him, and she enjoyed the way he lit up when he saw her. She looked forward to him visiting her on this coffee break. She’d count down the minutes until it’d be time, when she’d turn around and see him standing there, waiting for the order that he no longer had to ask for. It’d be ready. As hard as it was to admit, Emma was happy too.

Their relationship had been pretty steady sailing from day one. Or at least, steady for them, given their clumsy start. They’d known each other for ages before anything had truly happened between them. Paul had come in for his shitty coffee every day, and every time, they’d strike up a conversation. It got out of hand far too quickly, Paul would have to run back to the office because they’d lose track of time. Zoey, that snitch, told Nora about Emma leaving the customers waiting so she could talk to the dude in the suit, because god forbid Emma get a few minutes to herself on the clock. The next day, Emma forced herself to tell Paul that she had to get to work. Their conversation about CRISPR would have to wait for another day. Paul’s face had fallen, the guy really didn’t have a poker face, and Emma considered telling Nora to fuck off. Before she could make a terrible decision, Paul spoke, the words running together like he hadn’t sorted them out in his mind. Only Paul Matthews would ask her if she wanted to get a coffee sometime while in a coffee shop. The second the words left his lips he closed his eyes, looking as if he was desperately begging for the ground to swallow him whole. 

Emma was still surprised that she managed to keep a straight face. She simply slid Paul his cup of coffee, distantly realizing that once again, they’d talked long enough that it was no longer hot. If she’d had any doubts about her response, that cleared them away. Sliding him that coffee was as clear of a yes as she could manage, and it was a message. What made these daily conversations distinctly separate from dates? Other than the fact that she was at work, but damn, Emma didn’t give a shit about any of the other customers. She certainly didn’t chat with _ them, _ she was here to give them their cups of liquid sugar and get them out. Paul didn’t seem to get the hint, though. He seemed to think that her offer was a gentle rejection rather than a subtle yes. He was still busy purposefully not looking at her, his gaze on the floor, which made grabbing his coffee rather difficult. Needless to say, as he reached out to grab it, he misjudged how far away the cup was. 

Emma had anticipated it, and before she knew it, her hands were over his, keeping the cup from spilling. Her damn heart had been pounding, and she cursed it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it was such bullshit. She’d come to terms with the fact that she liked Paul a while back, but this? This was a betrayal. She was a grown woman, she could handle being asked out and a little physical contact without turning into a giggling schoolgirl. A thundering heart and rapidly warming cheeks were unacceptable. 

Emma had reacted in the best way she could manage and drew her hands back, dropping them to her sides. Paul held his cup close, like it was something precious, and Emma nodded, though she suggested maybe a break from her workplace would be better. Paul pursed his lips and nodded, easily backtracking from his first suggestion. They’d settled on a movie, and that was that. It’d always been so simple for them from that point on. Conversation continued to flow freely, and the tension that Emma expected from a new relationship never showed itself. 

They learned new things about each other every day, new ways that their methods of communicating could overlap or clash. Emma had to get used to his easy affection quickly, his tendency to press against her, his loving gaze, the way it seemed to be nothing to him to drop the casual ‘I love you’s. Of course, she wasn’t silent on the matter. She could say it back. It felt like closing her fist around her heart, pulling it free of her body and handing it to him. It felt like _ vulnerability _. But she could say it. Showing her love with actions came much more naturally. Little favors, remembering things that he had a tendency to forget, asking him about his interests and listening to him tell her every little detail until she thought her ears would fall off, but enjoying every minute of it. 

Paul was full of compliments, casually noting things that he loved about her. He wasn’t much for pet names, thank goodness, because Emma would have to draw a line if he started calling her sweetheart. He called her by her name, mostly. Or Em.

Emma called him by his name too, primarily. Or asshole. Dumbass. Motherfucker. Cocksucker. Babe, if she was feeling extraordinarily mushy. She didn’t think much of it, it was how she spoke to most people, and she was sure he knew that when she referred to him in those ways, it was with the love that she couldn’t express with any other words. Paul never seemed to react negatively. He responded to anything she called him. He knew her.

Still, it was a fairly new relationship, and Emma was struggling. She was sure she’d always struggle with her emotions, and especially, struggle with expressing them. Keeping up with Paul was a challenge, but she did her best. He deserved her very best.

* * *

  
  


Emma was worried about Paul. He loved Christmas, and she knew he’d rather be at home by the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate. Instead, they had to go to his annual office Christmas party. Emma was already exhausted from the socializing, all the endless pointless chats. Emma simply couldn’t express just how little she cared about Ted’s holiday plans, or the trip to Barbados that Paul’s boss was planning. The bright lights were hurting her eyes, and Paul looked like he wanted to personally smash the speakers with a baseball bat. Was All I Want For Christmas is You playing for the second time, or was it just the songs blurring together? Paul was fidgeting with the ends of his red sweater endlessly, on the verge of fraying it past the point of return. Through her own stress, she could catch him fading out of the conversations, unable to focus. Once he started swallowing repeatedly, lifting his drink to his lips frequently in an attempt to hide it, Emma put her foot down. Fuck social obligation, this was miserable. She elbowed him in the side. He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. “We should head home, it’s getting late.”

Paul took the cue and nodded. He turned back to Ted, who was rambling on about something or other, Emma hadn’t bothered to pay attention. She caught the word redhead and decided she’d rather stick to her own thoughts. Paul cut him off. “We’re going to head out now, I’ll see you soon, Ted.” 

Ted smirked and winked. “Alright, you two have a _ nice _ night.” Neither of them dignified his implication with a response. Paul turned, heading towards the door. 

“Hey, dumbass,” Emma said. Paul turned. “Coats? You planning on braving the walk to the car in just a sweater?” 

Paul smiled sheepishly and made his way to the other room where their coats had been discarded. Emma was only waiting for a moment before a voice behind her drew her attention.

“That wasn’t very nice of you.” Emma turned. A woman with a festive red and green bow in hair was standing there, a glass of wine in her hand. 

“I’m sorry?” Emma responded, still not entirely sure that the woman was talking to her. The woman… Charlotte! That was it. Paul had talked about her before. Charlotte looked like she regretted opening her mouth the moment Emma made eye contact, but she stiffened, steeling herself.

“I’ve known Paul for a long while, he’s a good friend of mine.” Guilt flooded Emma, she should have remembered Charlotte. “I don’t like the way you talk to him.”

Emma grew defensive. Sure, maybe Charlotte was a close friend of Paul’s, but who was she to tell Emma how their relationship should be? She hadn’t thought about her word choice until Charlotte brought it up, it had come naturally. Paul was used to it, it was fine. Wasn’t it? Emma was about to respond, but a hand squeezed her shoulder, then dropped down her side to close around her hand.

“You ready?” Paul said softly. He clearly hadn’t heard what Charlotte had said. 

Emma was tired. It had been a long night, and she didn’t feel up to justifying her relationship to a woman she barely knew. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *

The car ride home was silent, both of them recovering from the night. Emma watched the snow fall in the streetlights, the beauty contrasting the turmoil of her thoughts. Maybe Charlotte was right. She knew kindness wasn’t her strong suit, but she _ tried _, at least with Paul. The words she used didn’t matter, the intent underneath them was clear. What if they weren’t, though? Social cues weren’t Paul’s strong suit, and he was always so forthcoming and frank with his words, and…

Emma wanted to groan. Great. She’d fucked everything up. Again. She knew she needed to apologize, have a genuine talk about it, but the thought alone made her feel sick. She combed through her words carefully the whole drive, and when they got inside, she closed the door a little harder than she should. 

Paul got started with his evening routine, preparing for bed, and Emma wandered aimlessly, trying to put off the inevitable. She eventually made her way to his side in bed, and he subconsciously shifted to be closer to her as he read. Emma sat there and fidgeted, trying to get the nerve to start a conversation that she didn’t want to have. It would be rude to do it now, she thought. Not after he needed to wind down from the torture of the Christmas party. Or maybe it would be wrong to do so while he was reading, she knew he was enjoying that book. Excuses, excuses. 

She took a deep breath. “Hey, I need to talk to you.” Paul looked up at her. “You know I don’t mean it, right?” She paused. Paul’s gaze darted away for a moment. She could see his brain processing, trying to figure out what the fuck she was talking about. “The names. Earlier this evening.” Great, right out of the gate and she’s already lost the ability to communicate in full sentences. Paul furrowed his brow. “I called you a dumbass.” Emma mumbled.

Paul was thoroughly concerned. He nodded slowly. “You do that fairly often, Em.”

Emma dropped her face into her hands in frustration. He was going to make her spell it out, then? “Yeah, and I’m sorry, alright? It’s not… Nice.” Her voice was muffled by her palms. She waited for a response, but she didn’t get one. Instead, a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling it away from her face. He twined his fingers with hers. Emma still couldn’t look at him.

“The first time I ever saw you, I was just trying out the new coffee shop down the road. As I was leaving, you called a customer an asshole for complaining about not getting whipped cream.” 

Emma huffed. “He probably was an asshole.” Paul squeezed her hand.

“What I’m saying is that I know you, and I know the difference between a genuine insult from you and a pet name.” 

At that, Emma whipped her head up. He was grinning at her, the motherfucker. “It’s not-”

“Yes, it is.” 

“Oh, fuck. It is, isn’t it?” Emma grimaced, but relief was seeping through her bones.  
  


Paul laughed, finally releasing her hand. He closed his book and placed it on the nightstand, switching his lamp off. He buried himself in his blankets and lay his head on the pillow, looking up at her and smiling softly. 

The stress of the night followed by an equally stressful drive home finally caught up with Emma, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than unconsciousness. As she flicked the switch and plunged the room into darkness, she decided one more moment of painful vulnerability couldn’t hurt.

“Night. Love you.” She said, trying to force the meaning into the simple words.

“Good night, dumbass” Paul replied.

She laughed so hard that her sides hurt, and as she lay down, Paul pulled her close.

Emma wheezed a last giggle and let sleep take her, letting the anxiety of the day leave her, comfortable in Paul’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out over at @anxiousoddish and @autistic-paul on tumblr if you want to yell at me for anything! Comments mean the world to me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Dumbass (With Love)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131998) by [Ceewelsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceewelsh/pseuds/Ceewelsh)


End file.
